Autoboyography

  “But what?” I ask, pulling into a parking spot.

  “No, nothing like that. He’s good. I just want you there.” She holds my eyes for one . . . two . . . three. “Are you sure you don’t want to go with me?”

  “Do you want to go with me? Dude, Auddy, I’ll go with you if that’s what you need.”

  She slumps. “I can’t back out with Eric now.”

  Relief floods my blood. Sebastian would understand, surely, but the idea of dancing with Autumn when I’d rather be with Sebastian doesn’t seem fair to either of them.

  Turning off the ignition, I lean back, closing my eyes. I don’t feel like being here with Manny or any of the other kids from school, messing around in the parking lot with remote-controlled cars. I feel like going home and writing out this tangle and heat in my head. I’m upset with Sebastian, and hate that he’s gone for the entire day when I feel so twisted inside.

  “How many girls have you been with?”

  I blink over to her, startled by the abrupt question. “What?”

  Even in hindsight, I feel this weird twinge of disloyalty to Sebastian for having slept with anyone else.

  Autumn is blushing. She looks sheepish. “Just curious. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only virgin left.”

  I shake my head. “I promise, you’re not.”

  “Right. Like, I’m sure you have a whole bunch of stories I don’t even know about.”

  God, she’s making me uneasy.

  “Auddy, you know who I’ve been with. Three. Jessa, Kailley, and Trin.” I reach for her hand. I need air. “Come on.”

  • • •

  Utah Lake used to be gorgeous. It was full, and splashy, and a great place for all kinds of environmentally irresponsible water sports that positively horrified my parents when we first moved here. If you ask my dad, Jet Skis are the devil’s work.

  Now the water level is low and the algae cover is so thick that even if it were swimming weather, we probably wouldn’t venture in. Instead, we just lurk between the parking lot and the shore, eating the pizza Manny brought and throwing stones as far out into the horizon as we can.

  I dream about college life and living in a big city where I can spend a day in museums or at a bar watching soccer, or doing any number of things that don’t involve sitting around, talking about the same crap we talk about every day at school. I dream about convincing Sebastian to move with me and showing him that being gay isn’t a bad thing.

  Kole brought a few of his college friends I’ve never met, and they’re flying radio-controlled helicopters near the parking lot. They’re big, footbally, and the kind of loud, frequently swearing guys that have always made me mildly uncomfortable. I’m no Manny, but I’m not small by any stretch, and I know there’s a certain calm to me that’s often interpreted as threatening somehow. One of them, Eli, sizes me up with a frown before looking at Autumn as if he’s going to roll her up in a slice of pizza and eat her. He’s muscular in a suspicious way, with a thick neck and splotchy, acne-scarred skin.

  She shuffles into my side, playing the girlfriend role. So I immediately take on the boyfriend role, tucking my arm around her, meeting his gaze. Eli looks away.

  “You don’t want to experiment with that?” I joke.

  Auddy grunts out a “No.”

  After our call this morning was cut short by Autumn’s arrival, Sebastian left for an activity at some park in South Jordan. I know he isn’t going to be home until after six, but it doesn’t stop me from obsessively checking to see if I have any cryptically suggestive emojis in my text box.

  I don’t.

  I hate the way we left things—with a casual “Talk later”—and I especially hate that he doesn’t seem to have any sense how his words on Thursday affected me. It’s something I’ve read about in the pamphlets Mom has left out—how queer kids sometimes feel this hovering sense of doubt, knowing someone could reject us not only for who we are specifically but who we are more deeply—but I’ve never really felt it before now. If Sebastian doesn’t think he’s gay, then what the hell is he doing with me?

  I pull Autumn closer, calmed by the solid weight of her against me.

  Manny recruits a few guys to help him build a huge radio-controlled Humvee, and when they’re done, they take turns hurling it over the uneven ground, the path down to the lake, small boulders bordering the parking lot.

  Our attention is drawn away by a scuffle in the distance, near my car. Kole’s friends are wrestling, laughing, and we watch as a big guy I think is named Micah takes down Eli. Beneath him, Eli bucks and shoves, but he can’t get up. I don’t know what he’s done to get wrestled to the ground, even if it’s clearly good-natured, but I can’t help enjoying the sight of him pinned down there. We’ve exchanged zero words; he just has that asshole vibe about him.

  “Get off me, faggot!” he yells, noticing how much attention they’re getting now.

  Absolute zero: Everything stops moving inside me. Every particle of energy is focused on schooling my expression.

  Beside me, Auddy freezes too. The word “faggot” seems to echo across the surface of the lake, but the only people it seems to have hit somewhere tender is the two of us.

  Micah gets up, laughing harder, and helps Eli to his feet.

  “I bet you just got the biggest boner, you fucking homo.” Eli brushes off his jeans. His face is even redder than it was before.

  I turn away, acting like I’m just going to squint across the horizon at the beautiful mountains in the distance, but when I catch a glimpse of Auddy, she looks like she wants to rip Eli’s balls off with her bare hands. I can’t really blame her—I’m horrified to realize that people still talk like that . . . anywhere.

  Wandering off, Micah seems unconcerned. The rest of the group turns to walk over to where Micah is picking up his fallen remote control toy, and the moment seems to pass as easily as a wave breaking on the rocky shore.

  “Gross,” Auddy whispers. She looks up at me, and I try to smile through my repressed rage. I try to channel Sebastian, and for the first time, I understand his amazing fake smile. He’s had so much practice.

  She stands, swiping the dried grass from her jeans. “I think we should head out.”

  I follow her. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “Just not my crowd. Why would Kole hang out with these douche bags?”

  Not my crowd either. I’m relieved. “No idea.”

  Manny follows, protesting. “Guys, you just got here. Don’t you want to race these cars?”

  “I told Tanner I wasn’t feeling great this morning,” Auddy lies. “I feel worse.”

  “I’m her ride,” I say, shrugging as if she’s dragging me out of here against my wishes. But remote-controlled vehicles and homophobia just aren’t my cup of tea, I guess.

  He walks us to my car, stopping me at the driver’s side. “Tanner, what Eli said back there . . .”

  Heat pricks at the back of my neck. “What did he say?”

  “Aw, man, come on.” Manny laughs, looking to the side in a don’t-make-me-say-it gesture. “Whatever, Eli’s an idiot.”

  I move to get in the car.

  This is so weird.

  This is so bad.

  It’s like he knows about me. How does he know?

  Not to be detoured, Manny pushes his sunglasses up on his head, squinting at me in confusion. “Tann, wait. Just so you know, we’re cool. Yeah? I would never let someone say that crap to you.”

  I don’t resist when he pulls me into a hug, but I feel like a two-by-four against him. Reels and reels of memories are flying past. Somewhere in my brain a poor, underpaid theater geek is trying to find the footage of Manny realizing I’m into dudes. I can’t locate the memory, the possibility anywhere. “Manny, dude. We’re cool. I don’t even know what this is about.”

  He pulls away and then looks at Autumn, who is standing very, very still. Manny looks at me again. “Hey, no, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

  He backs
off and turns, leaving Auddy and me in a cloud of silence and wind.

  “What was that?” Auddy asks, watching him walk away.

  “Who knows?” I look at her, preparing some easy explanation in my head. I mean, this is what I do. I’m fast on my feet. I’m usually so fast. But today, I don’t know, maybe I’m tired. Maybe I’m sick of protecting myself. Maybe I’m leveled by Sebastian’s denial. Maybe the hurricane of my feelings and the lies and the half-truths just knocked the covers off my windows and Auddy sees straight through, inside.

  “Tanner, what is going on?”

  It’s the same voice Sebastian used on the mountain. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.

  Just like Sebastian, she does understand. She just wants me to say it.

  “I’m . . .” I look up at the sky. A plane flies overhead, and I wonder where it’s headed. “I think I’m in love with Sebastian.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Auddy smiles, but it’s this weird, bright, robot-girl smile. I nearly laugh, because the first thought I have is how much better Sebastian is than Autumn at fake smiling, and how that would be the worst possible thing to let slip out of my mouth right now.

  “Let’s talk in the car?” I say.

  She turns and walks around to the passenger side just as robotically. I’m in a weird state of shock, where Manny’s words and expression are looping in my head, and I know this conversation with Autumn is about to happen, but I’ve been waiting for it for so long that more than anything, I just feel insane relief.

  Her door slams shut. I climb in beside her, sticking the keys in the ignition just to turn on the heat. “So.”

  She turns to face me, tucking a leg beneath her. “Okay. What just happened?”

  “Well, apparently Manny figured out that I’m into guys.”

  She blinks. I know that Autumn is pro-gay rights—she adores Emily and Shivani, she rails about the LDS policy about queer members, and she helped put up flyers for the Provo High Gay-Straight Alliance party last spring. But it’s one thing to support it in theory. It’s another to have it right there, in her life. In her best friend.

  “Technically, I’m bi. I’ve known probably forever, but I’ve been sure since I was thirteen.”

  She points to her own face. “If I look anything other than fine with this, please understand I’m only upset that you didn’t tell me sooner.”

  I shrug. I don’t really need to point out that the timing of me sharing this information isn’t up to her. “Okay. Well, here we are.”

  “This feels like a big deal.”

  This makes me laugh. “It is a big deal. I’m describing how my heart beats.”

  She blinks, confused. “But you made out with Jen Riley sophomore year. I saw you,” she says. “And what about Jessa, Kailley, and Trin? You’ve had sex. With girls.”

  “I also made out with you,” I remind her. She flushes, and I point to my chest. “Bi.”

  “Wouldn’t it be weird if there was a girl at school—a girl we had talked about, who we both thought was insanely hot, and sweet, and perfect—and I was in love with her and dealing with that on my own and I didn’t say anything to you about it?”

  I hadn’t really thought about it this way, and even that hypothetical makes me feel the tiniest bit sad, like all this time I was there, available, invested, and Auddy didn’t come to me because she didn’t trust me. “Yeah, okay, I get that. But in my defense, it’s Provo. And you know my mom. She is, like, militant about this stuff. There’s no room to be anything but one hundred percent on my side. I didn’t want to risk that you’d have any conflict or issue with me.”

  “Oh my God. So much makes sense now.” She exhales, long and slow, turning to blow her breath on the window. A cloud of condensation appears, and Autumn draws a heart in it and then takes a Snap, typing an enormous red “WOW” before posting it.

  “So, Sebastian,” she says.

  “Yeah. Sebastian knows,” I say, intentionally misunderstanding her. “He found out by accident, though. The summary of my book . . . I forgot to take the word ‘queer’ out, and it’s pretty obvious it’s autobiographical.”

  Her eyes widen at the way the word slips so easily from my mouth, and I forget not everyone lives in a household where a parent sleeps in a MY QUEER KID RULES nightgown. “Your book is about him?”

  “It started out being about who I am, in this town. And then Sebastian came along and . . . yeah. It’s about falling for him.”

  “Is he . . . ?”

  “He’s never told me he’s gay,” I say. Technically, I’m not lying. It is not my place to out him, no matter what. “And he’s still going on his mission, so I assume . . .”

  She smiles and takes my hand. “That doesn’t mean he’s not gay, Tann. Lots of Mormons are gay. Lots of missionaries, lots of married men, even.”

  “I guess. I’m just . . . bummed.”

  Autumn squeezes my fingers. Her cheeks flush just before she asks, “Have you had sex with a guy?”

  I shake my head. “Kissed. I had a boyfriend for a few months back home.”

  “Wow.” She bites her lip. “The idea of you and Sebastian kissing is . . .”

  A laugh bursts out of my throat, and it sounds like relief. “And there she goes. Autumn is back.”

  She peppers me with questions, and we decide to drive to the mall.

  How did my parents react?

  What does Hailey think of it?

  Are there other guys at school I’ve liked?

  How many guys have I kissed?

  Is it different from kissing girls?

  Which do I prefer?

  Do I ever think I’ll be totally out?

  I answer everything—almost. I obviously can’t tell her that kissing Sebastian is better than anything I’ve done, ever.

  And, of course, I tell her that as soon as I get to college, I plan to be out. I was out in Palo Alto. The second my wheels hit the state line, I am going to roll down my window and wave my flag.

  There’s an undercurrent to the conversation that’s impossible to ignore, an edge of hurt that I didn’t tell her sooner. Luckily, Autumn is easily distracted with hugs, and jokes, and ice cream. A spring inside seems to uncoil.

  Autumn knows.

  We’re okay.

  Spending the rest of the day under the heat of her gentle grilling has the added benefit of not allowing me to obsess over Sebastian being gone, Sebastian not being gay, and—maybe especially—what Manny said back at the lake. It’s great that he’s supportive, I guess, but it still irks me that I’ll probably spend most of my life dividing the people I know into two groups: the people who support me without question and the ones who should. I’m glad that Manny ended up on the right side, but I can’t let myself dive into the rabbit hole of wondering how he knew. I hop between being relieved that it seems obvious to someone and still not a big deal, to worrying that it’s going to be obvious to more people . . . and become a big deal. Please let me just get out of Provo before the shit hits the fan.

  We lick our ice-cream cones and meander through the thick Saturday evening crowd. Everyone shops on Saturdays; Sundays are for worship and rest. Mormons aren’t supposed to do anything on Sundays that require someone else to work, so most of the time, they stay home after church services. It means the crowds today are dense and exuberant.

  The other thing that’s easy to notice is that prom is on the horizon: Storefronts at every clothing shop proclaim they have dresses, tuxes, shoes, earrings, flowers. Sale, sale, sale. Prom, prom, prom.

  With Eric having manned up and asked Autumn, I get to be Supportive Best Friend again, which apparently means waiting patiently while she tries on dress after dress in the brightly lit fitting room.

  The first one is black, floor-length, and fitted, with cap sleeves and a neckline that dips questionably low. It also has a slit that runs clear up her thigh.

  “It’s a bit much . . .” I wince dramatically, keeping my eyes in the general vicinity of her
face. “It’s a lot much, actually.”

  “A lot as in good?”

  “Can you wear that to a school dance in Utah? It’s . . .” I pause, shaking my head. “I don’t know . . .” I motion to the lower half of her body, and Autumn leans forward to see what I’m looking at. “I can practically see your vagina, Auddy.”

  “Tanner, no. Don’t say ‘vagina.’ ”

  “Can you even sit down with that on?”

  Autumn moves to a fuzzy pink chair and crosses her legs as if to demonstrate.

  I look away. “Thank you for proving me right.”

  “What color are my underwear?” she asks, grinning like she thinks I’m lying.

  “Blue.”

  Autumn stands, tugging the dress back down. “Damn. I like this one.” She moves to stand in front of the mirror, and a tiny spark of protectiveness hums in my chest as I imagine Eric and his hands and eighteen-year-old hormones all over her. She meets my eyes in the glass. “So you don’t like it?”

  I feel like a dick for making her think she’s anything less than perfect and shouldn’t wear whatever she wants, but it’s in direct conflict with some big-brother-like instinct to tie Eric’s hands behind his back. “I mean, you look hot. It’s just . . . a lot of skin.”

  “I look hot?” she asks, hopeful, and I feel my brows come together.

  “You know you are.”

  She hums as she considers her reflection. “I’ll put it in the maybe pile.”

  Autumn disappears back into the dressing room, and from the bottom of the louvered door I see the black fabric pool around her feet before being kicked aside. “How’s the book coming, by the way? Now that I know a little more about it, I’m even more curious.”

  I groan as I scroll through Instagram. “I like it, but I can’t use it.”

  She peeks around the curtain. “Why not?”

  I keep it vague: “Because it’s obvious that it’s about me falling in love with Sebastian, and I don’t think the bishop’s son would particularly appreciate being the star in a queer love story.”

  Her voice is momentarily muffled as she slips into a new dress. “I can’t believe it’s about him. I could beta read it for you?”